Sign Your Name Across My Heart
by G12G4
Summary: The day before the final competition in the Tr-Wizard Cup, Ronald Weasley decides to give his former hero, Viktor Krum, a piece of his mind, with unexpected results.


Author's Note:

Written for The Golden Snitch Forum Challenge: The Nautical Ship Challenge  
Prompt: Ron Weasley and Viktor Krum - S.S. Sensational Infatuation

This story does take place in the mid-1990's at a time when, well, let's just say the general public was less enlightened than they are now on certain issues. Words like bisexual, demisexual, sapiosexual, pansexual, and many others were terms that did not exist in the common lexicon at the time. Many terms were barely public knowledge. So do understand, a teenage boy might not have the knowledge and mental resources to even have a name for what he is feeling. I'm not intending to minimize or misrepresent, merely working with the times and a 15 year old.

* * *

Ron Weasley sat on the edge of his bed, head in his hands. He liked girls, he told himself. Girls. He glanced over at the broad back of the Bulgarian sleeping soundly in his bed, naked body only partially obscured by his sheets, the midday sun streaming in through the window coloring it golden. Did he like girls? Or did he like boys? He'd never thought of Harry like that. Or Dean. Or Seamus. No, he liked girls. Girls like Hermione. Well not Hemione. Or did he like her? Seeing her with Krum at the Yule Ball had made him jealous, hadn't it? Viktor grunted softly. Ron looked at Viktor's peaceful face, a warm smile of affection rising to his lips. Had he been jealous of Viktor? Or had it been Hermione he was jealous of? Maybe he did like boys. Was it possible to like both? Maybe it was just Viktor.

Hermione would scold him for cutting Potions. She always did. She'd cluck her tongue and wag her finger. And what would he say? He was off snogging her boyfriend. Well, not her boyfriend. Obviously not _her_ boyfriend. He looked over at the sleeping seeker he had idolized. He smirked. He could say it. She'd probably just think he was having a lend at her. Oh what had he gotten himself into! He fell over onto his side, bouncing off the bed from the impact. How had this happened?

It was only an hour ago he had seen Viktor alone in a corridor. The third trial was tomorrow. It was his last chance to give that Krum a piece of his mind. He marched over to him, ready to tear into that bow legged, slump backed, friendship breaking pratt. But as Krum turned he suddenly found himself at a loss for works.

"Vhat?" the dark eyed Bulgarian said in his heavily accented tones. Ron stood mutely. Krum regarded him in some confusion. "Mr. Ronald. Do you vant I should sign you an autograph?"

He was mocking him. Viktor Krum was mocking him. He knew who Ron was. Did he want an autograph?! Ron screwed up his courage and the words of fury poured out. "I want you to stay away from Hermione Granger."

"She is your friend, no? Vhy should I?"

"We all know you're just using her to get closer to Harry. To learn his weaknesses. So leave her alone."

"Ah, I see, you mistake me. She is a good friend. I have enjoyed our time together. She is very... vhat is the vord? Interesting."

"Oh come off it! What in the world is interesting about watching her read for hours? You're just playing her to get to Harry, to throw him off like at the lake. She's not the most important person to you."

"You are right. But that person was not available for me to use."

"And why not."

"Because they were already in the competition."

"What, you mean Harry? You really want to win that much, do you?" Ron's face was as red as his hair with fury.

"No. Not Harry Potter. He is a good competitor. It has been an honor to compete against him. But no, I don't care about that. If he vins, he vins." Krum seemed to think for a moment, as if deciding. "But you are right. I vas using Hermininny to be closer to someone."

"I knew it! Who?"

Viktor stepped closer to Ron, dark eyes searching the freckled face. "You."

Ron was stunned. "Me?"

Viktor leaned in and kissed Ron on the lips. Ron was sorry when they immediately departed. They were warm and surprisingly soft. He felt like he should be revolted - Viktor was a man! But he just couldn't find it in himself to be, not even to pretend it. Viktor drew back with a smile as if he had hoped for that very reaction. "Yes, you."

Ron could have been knocked down with a feather. Viktor Krum, the seeker for Bulgaria, one of the Tri-Wizard Cup champions, the man who he had idolized, whose moves he had memorized, whose autograph he coveted, who he had dreamed about for years, but never in this way! had kissed him. Ron Weasley. "Why?"

Viktor's smile was enigmatic, a low light smouldered in his eyes. "A man is not required to reveal the vays of his heart. Perhaps it vas the vay you felt everything so deeply, or perhaps it is merely chemistry, no? Or the vay you concentrate so hard on the chessboard, considering every possible move before you place them down. Or perhaps there is just something about you that I find. Quite. Special." Viktor slid his hand gently across Ron's cheek, cupping his jaw. They were barely a centimeter apart and Ron could feel his warm breath.

Ron shook his head slightly, dropping his eyes from the dark ones that sought them. "There's nothing special about me. And there never has been or will be."

"Yes there is. You are very special. I only vish you could see what I see vhen I look at you. But I vill do my best to show you." This time when Viktor kissed him, they did not break apart. Ron kissed him with the ferver of a starving man offered a piece of bread for the first time.

The next hour was something of a blur. He wasn't entirely sure how they had gotten back to his room. He could vaguely remember parts of it, but it was mostly a blur of kisses and caresses, of pulling himself to Viktor and being held tightly in his arms. Of a sudden urgent need within him he had never known that demanded to be filled. As if he would die if it weren't. Of the disapproving scowl of the fat lady who was irritated that it took him so long to shout out the password. And then onto his bed. That part he remembered clearly. His face reddened just thinking about it. His eyes caught his old poster of Viktor, the one he had pulled down with prejudice after the Yule Ball. Viktor's face stared back at him.

Ron felt a stirring behind him. "Karkaroff vill be furious. It is bad for the legs he vill say." Ron felt a tender kiss below his ear. "And I vill laugh at him, old man, and tell him I do not care if I never run again." He wrapped Ron tightly in his strong embrace. "If only I could bring you back to Durmstrang vith me, my lisitsa." Lisitsa meant fox, Viktor had said, foxes were clever, passionate. Ron had not minded the name. Viktor noticed where Ron was staring. "Do you vant an autograph?" The way he spoke the words caused Ron's heart to melt.

"Yes." he admitted. "But Harry would notice. How would I explain it?"

"You could tell him the truth." Ron stiffened. Viktor chuckled. "Perhaps someday." Ron eased. "Maybe I could sign the back? Then you vould alvays have a vay to look back and remember me. A special autograph just for you."

"I don't think I could ever forget you."

"You are very sweet, Ronald. But the memories, they vill fade in time. There vill be others. Men, vomen, I do not know, but others. Vho knows vhen I vill see you again."

Ron turned to him. "You will. I'll make sure of it. Remember, I did play the best game of chess in Hogwarts. I'll find a way."

Viktor smiled sadly. "Ve shall see. But I have enjoyed this time ve have had."

"We still have another hour before they get out of class. Let's make the most of it." This time it was Ron who pulled Viktor in for a passionate kiss. At the end of the hour they sadly bid goodbye and Ron collapsed in the bed, exhausted, where Harry and Hermione found him and, after being certain he wasn't ill , Hermione did, indeed give him the scolding of a lifetime. But he didn't care as he stole glances to the poster where black ink spelled out: _To Ron, my lisitsa, obicham, Viktor._


End file.
